Housekeeping
by Nova6
Summary: Questions are raised, answers aren't given, and the new M.A.I.D. isn't even mentioned.
1. First things first

First things first- I don't own My Little Pony, and furthermore, I would just like to add that I don't understand why I have to write this here, but I've been told that it's the 'proper' way to do things. Something about getting sued? And we all know that noone wants that, poor college students least of all.  
  
This was started as the response to a challenge which was posted last November by North Star and Sparkler and I stumbled upon in February. I found the challenges interesting and humorous, so I thought I'd try to 'give it the old college try' and 'win this one for the Gipper' and any other mysterious quotes you feel like tossing in that parents are always quoting and no one in our generation REALLY understands.  
  
This is my first fanfic of ANY sort. I am tired of reading fiction where the hero and heroine fall in love and live happily ever after. I am tired of stories that would fit well into any third grader's library. And finally, I am VERY tired of stories that don't deal with the commonplace things in life. Why a badly made robot? Why not? It's funny. It's light. There's angst, there's comedy, (perhaps in too large a dose for some to handle) there might be romance eventually. There are, sadly, no occurences of FIERY CHIPMUNK DEATH, as I am NOT that Nova. That's another writer, who's name I have totally forgotten, but nonetheless very skilled. If you like comedy, you should go read 'The Attack of Lord Fluffypants' immediately. Let me rephrase that- immediately AFTER you read and review Housekeeping.  
  
Speaking of reading and reviewing, you should A) read my story, B) review my story, and C) enjoy doing both of these things. I am quite open to critiscism, constructive or not, as long as you are respectful, I'll gladly take into consideration the things you say.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Nova 


	2. 1. Special Delivery

Housekeeping  
  
It was a wonderful, beautiful day in Ponyland, a wonderful, beautiful land full of ponies. All days in Ponyland were wonderful and beautiful, but this day was especially wonderful, although no more beautiful than the rest. The reason, you may ask? As well you may! This story shan't have a very good start if it were just your average wonderful, beautiful day, now would it? There has to be something to set it apart from the rest of the wonderful, beautiful days in Ponyland, and since overwhelmingly beautiful days tended to bring gobs of babies some months later, the little ponies had a restriction on them. Especially wonderful days, however, tended to happen rather often.  
  
On this particular especially wonderful, beautiful day in Ponyland, a little white pony with a rainbow colored mane and a glittery five-point star painted on her side lounged in a chaise near the front steps of Paradise Estate. Star (the wonderful, beautiful, and stereotypically named pony) waited anxiously for a package. Although not the type of package brought about by overwhelmingly beautiful days, it had been expected for a similarly long amount of time. This was the day that Paradise Estate's new M.A.I.D. was to arrive! The M.A.I.D. (Mission: Annihilate Icky Dirt) had been purchased several months ago from a company by the estate's owner, Faith, so that she might spend more time dreaming up wonderful, beautiful ways to please the guests and considerably less time fetching them delicacies and/or scrubbing toilets. In the weeks since then, their custom- made M.A.I.D. had been assembled.  
  
At precisely 2:15 in the afternoon, nothing happened.  
  
At precisely 2:16 in the afternoon, Star scratched her left ear with her hoof and lazily turned over to sunbathe on her other side, as her excitement had long since worn off.  
  
At precisely 2:17 in the afternoon, nothing happened.  
  
At precisely 2:18 in the afternoon, a large sea-going bird fell clumsily to the ground in front of Paradise Estate, lying in a mangled heap of feathers and dragging a large sack behind him. A clunking noise came from the bag as several bits and pieces spilled from it. Star looked at the large sea-going bird, shocked that he had the audacity to damage such a wonderful (and beautiful, Star was certain) thing as the new M.A.I.D. She did the only thing she could think of- she sputtered.  
  
"Wha-- How-- You just-- Broken-- Ruined--" She finished off her sputtering with a wonderful, beautiful wail- "SO EXPENSIVE!!!!"  
  
The large sea-going bird stared back and calmly said, "I haven't broken anything!"  
  
"What do you mean you haven't broken anything? Our M.A.I.D. is in pieces! How can you calmly lie there in a mangled heap of feathers dragging a large sack behind you which is spilling several bits and pieces of our new M.A.I.D. from it and say that you haven't broken anything?"  
  
"It came in pieces," the large sea-going bird said, and drug itself away, leaving Star to puzzle it out on her own.  
  
"But it was being assembled for months. This makes no sense. Oh, well, nothing to it but to find out how extensive the damage is to our new M.A.I.D." Star opened the sack that the large sea-going bird had left and gently tried to remove the majority of the M.A.I.D. from the bag. Feeling around with her hoof, she noticed that there seemed to be nothing in the bag but bits and pieces- certainly nothing that felt like a completed M.A.I.D. Peering in merely confirmed this. However, peering also revealed that there was a bit (or piece- Star could never remember which was which) of parchment. On it was the picture of a rather scruffy man with a five-o- clock shadow and a beer belly, the statement "Call us if you have any questions about your new M.A.I.D.", and a phone number: 1-800-CON-R-TST. Star called the number and asked to speak with someone in the customer service department.  
  
"We don't have one of those," was the response on the other end of the phone.  
  
"Oh, ah, could I talk to someone who knows what to do with a problem about a M.A.I.D.?"  
  
"If you don't like your current butlery service, you should buy a M.A.I.D.! They cook, they clean, they fetch delicacies and/or scrub toilets so you can spend more time dreaming up wonderful and beautiful ways to please your guests-"  
  
"Yes, I know, we have already purchased a M.A.I.D. I have problems with our new M.A.I.D. and would like to speak to someone who knows what they are doing."  
  
"We don't have anyone like that."  
  
"ARGGGH! Can I speak with someone in charge? A manager? Anyone besides you?"  
  
"Oh, I AM the manager. My name's Sparkler. But you can talk to Northy if you'd rather. She's the other manager. "  
  
"Which of you can answer questions about the new M.A.I.D.?" Star spat between gritted teeth. Neither spitting nor gritting teeth is considered wonderful or beautiful things to do in Ponlyand, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and sometimes, a pony has to do what a pony has to do. This was such a time, and Star had to spit and grit like she had never spat nor gritted before.  
  
"Uh, I think Northy might. Let me ask her and find out. HEY NORTHY! SOME CHUMP ON THE PHONE HAS QUESTIONS ABOUT A M.A.I.D.! SHOULD I GET RID OF HER?" There was a long pause full of distant muffled conversation pierced with the occasional snort of derisive laughter or maniacal giggling. "I'm sorry ma'am, Northy isn't available right now. May I take a message? I'm certain that she'll get back to you RIGHT away." More giggles, muffled somewhat by the pony's hoof. Hooves, however, weren't made for muffling, so it came over the line very clearly. "I'll be glad to help you in any way I can."  
  
"Yes. My new M.A.I.D. arrived today, and it's all in pieces. I was under the impression that the M.A.I.D.'s came assembled."  
  
"It is assembled."  
  
"No it's not."  
  
"Yes it is."  
  
"No, it's NOT!"  
  
"Yes, it IS!"  
  
"If it were assembled, I wouldn't be sitting here with a sack full of bits and pieces of M.A.I.D.! I would be sitting here with a complete, fully- assembled, promptly-functional M.A.I.D! And I wouldn't be on the phone with you because there wouldn't be any problem!"  
  
"If it weren't assembled, you'd be sitting there with an empty sack. When we say 'assembled' we meant that all of the pieces come together. We have assembled them into one sack for your convenience."  
  
Star sighed. This was getting VERY frustrating. Perhaps she should just return the M.A.I.D. and get Faith's money back. "What about my warranty? M.A.I.D.s are supposed to come with a warranty. I didn't have one."  
  
"Well, how did you get this number? It comes on the same piece of paper."  
  
"It came on a paper with a photo of a balding, pot-bellied man."  
  
The pony on the other line sounded very excited, as if she had finally come to grasp the ideas that were in this customer's head. "Yes, yes, that's Warren. Warren T. He's our sacker. He sacks. He put all the bits and pieces in the sack for us. He's very good. I'm so glad we found him. And do you know that Warren can make the most wonderful eggs? All men can make good eggs, of course, but eggs a la Warren are really something else. You should have your M.A.I.D. make you a batch sometime. The recipe is programmed into it. We like to call it 'into-it-ive'. It's a new program that we had installed- just tell your new M.A.I.D. to make eggs a la Warren, and off she'll whisk, to make you the best eggs you've eve-"  
  
"I. Do. Not. Care. About. Eggs. I. Do. Not. Care. About. Your. Balding. Pot- bellied. Sacker. I. Can. Not. Have. My. M.A.I.D. Make. Your. Sacker's. Eggs. Until. It. Is. ASSEMBLED!!" Star's spat and gritted much more than she did earlier. This, my friends, was the highest level of spitting and gritting that anyone in Ponyland had ever experienced before. It was neither wonderful nor beautiful, but it was impressive.  
  
"Do you have any more questions?" asked the voice on the other end of the line.  
  
"Yes. Where are you located so I can either return my M.A.I.D. or injure you severely?"  
  
"I'm sorry. That's classified information. We can't give out our location because we live in constant fear that someone will spirit Warren away from us in the dark hours of the night and then we will be doomed to live forever without his sacking abilities or his fantastic egg-making skills. We just couldn't let that happen. It would destroy us. You understand. Have a nice day!" The pony on the other end of the line hung up.  
  
Star slumped despondently onto the floor, incidentally crushing a few bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D., one of which happened to be the M.A.I.D.'s processing circuitry. 


	3. 2. A Highly Redundant Conversation

The Bland One, a gray pony with gray hair, gray eyes, and no symbol, (although she insisted that she had one- it just blended in too well, as it was the EXACT same shade of gray as the rest of her. There was some speculation that The Bland One was really an ordinary horse, but no one had ever confronted The Bland One on this-- it was just too rude a subject to bring up.) came into the wonderful and beautiful lobby of Paradise Estate to find a very frizzled, highly rumpled, and slightly greasy (yet still wonderful and beautiful) Star sitting on the floor surrounded by bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D.  
  
"Hi, Star! How are you today?"  
  
"Well, I'm currently very frizzled, highly rumpled, and slightly greasy, yet still wonderful and beautiful. And yourself, The Bland One?"  
  
"Uh, quite nice, thanks. What are you doing?" The Bland One's friendly inquiries continued.  
  
"At the moment, I'm sitting on the floor surrounded by bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D. What are you up to?"  
  
"Currently, I am questioning you about your well-being and activities, and discovering that you are very frizzled, highly rumpled, and slightly greasy (yet still wonderful and beautiful) and sitting on the floor surrounded by bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D. Have you seen Faith? In addition to the things I have just listed, I am looking for her." Ponies, for all their make-believe, fantasy, wonderfulness, and beauty, tend to be very literal creatures. One ponders how they could possibly have managed to capture the imagination of an entire generation of young girls when most conversations in wonderful, beautiful Ponyland tend to go like this one.  
  
"Yes, I have seen Faith."  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"I don't know. I haven't seen her for hours- not since she told me to try to assemble these bits and pieces into our new M.A.I.D. I'm rather annoyed at her- it's HER fault that I am currently very frizzled, highly rumpled, and slightly greasy (yet still wonderful and beautiful) and sitting on the floor surrounded by bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D."  
  
"I see," replied The Bland One. "Could you tell me which direction she went or where she was headed?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Please tell me which direction she went or where she was headed."  
  
Star sighed. She liked The Bland One well enough, but this line of questioning was really getting old. "You know, it would be much faster if you asked me if I knew where she was NOW, so I could just tell you and go back to staring at these bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D. If you continue on in this fashion, Faith will come back in five minutes from doing her shopping at the grocery store, where she has gone to purchase more delicacies and toilet brushes because we were out, and I'll still be in the middle of explaining where she went, why she went, and when she plans on coming back when she gets here."  
  
The Bland One considered this for a moment. (Besides not being the brightest pony in the land, she wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, either.) "Where is Faith now?"  
  
Star smiled, glad to have gotten her point across to The Bland One. "Faith will come back in five minutes from doing her shopping at the grocery store, where she has gone to purchase more delicacies and toilet brushes because we were out."  
  
The Bland One was shocked at how quickly this new line of questioning had achieved the desired results. She vowed to herself to try it more often, then promptly forgot her newly-made vow as she was distracted by a delicacy sitting forlornly on a serving tray nearby. Helping herself to the delicacy, The Bland One also promptly forgot that Star was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D., and tripped on a bit (or a piece- she could never quite remember that tidbit of information any better than Star could.) and smashed directly into Star. Star rolled over, but The Bland One crashed over Star's head and into the tableleg. Star rose slowly, so as not to disturb any of the bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D. which surrounded her, and crawled gracelessy (but still wonderfully and beautifully) over to the Fireplace, where The Bland One was now groaning in pain.  
  
"Are you going to be alright?" Star queried.  
  
"Yes. I have a headache, but I think I'll be fine when it goes away."  
  
"I didn't ask if you were hurt, or what was hurting, or what your diagnosis for reduction of pain was! I asked if you were alright, meaning you should answer that question and NOTHING else! Let's try again. Are you alright?" Star really didn't like having her questions anticiapted. They would come in good time, and when they were asked, they would be answered, and not one moment sooner.  
  
"Uh, I think so."  
  
"Good. Are you hurt anywhere?"  
  
"Yes. I- uh, yes." The Bland One was catching on.  
  
"What hurts?" Star was highly satisfied that The Bland One seemed to have understood her. She didn't like having to be so direct, but it certainly wouldn't do for someone to wander around wonderful and beautiful Ponyland answering questions that hadn't been asked!  
  
"My head."  
  
"Can yu be more specific?" Star thought now would be the time for a test question, to see if The Bland One had REALLY learned or was just pretending.  
  
"I- uh, yes."  
  
"Great! Please be more specific."  
  
"I have a headache."  
  
"Ah. Do you think it will go away?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Soon?"  
  
"I'm not certain. I'll let you know, OK?"  
  
"I'M the one asking the questions here!"  
  
'Sorry."  
  
"Why don't you let me know when it goes away?"  
  
"I will." The Bland One stood up, very happy that this interrogation was over.  
  
"When your headache goes away, do you think you'll be fine?"  
  
The Bland One sighed. So much for being over! "Yes."  
  
"And you'll let me know?"  
  
"YES. I have to go- I think I heard Faith come in while we were discussing my headache. Goodbye!" The Bland One left, glad to be away form the most anal-retentive pony she had ever met. Most of the other ponies, while being very literal, weren't quite that bad.  
  
Star was quite pleased with herself, in addition to being very frizzled, highly rumpled, and slightly greasy (yet still wonderful and beautiful) but no longer surrounded by bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D., which now surrounded a large empty area of the floor with the picture of Warren T. near the center of it.  
  
"Ah ha! No wonder I couldn't' find the instruction sheet. I was sitting on it! Well, this should certainly help me make sense of these bits and piece of the new M.A.I.D." Sitting down in the large empty area of floor, Star once again surrounded herself with the bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D., very frizzled, highly rumpled, slightly greasy (yet still wonderful and beautiful) and quite pleased with herself. 


	4. 3. Sibling Rivalry

"ARGGGH!" Several hours later, Star was still sitting in the midst of bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D. She was no longer pleased with herself, and had only become more frizzled, more rumpled (yet still wonderful and beautiful), a great deal greasier than before, and much more frustrated. "Faith really should have given this job to Starshine, my stereotypically named sister who looks very much like myself. She's so much better with bits and pieces than I am!" Star wailed to the wonderful, beautiful lobby of Paradise Estate. "If only she didn't have that debilitating deformation- it must be so difficult getting about or doing anything with your left hoof attached to your stomach. But I'm certain that she could help me out with this. I think I'll give her a call." Star went to phone and called her sibling, who answered slightly out of breath and in a sing-song voice.  
  
"Hel-lo-o-o-o-o-o!" Starshine ended the greeting on an impossibly high note, close to shattering the windows, and continued to sing during the rest of the conversation. "Ca-a-a-a-n I Hellll-ppp ---- You?"  
  
Star sighed. This was going to be a long conversation. "Yes."  
  
"Hooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwww?" Starshine was now using a wonderful, beautiful vibrato that was certain to wonderfully and beautifully annoy anyone who happened to be trying to have a conversation with her.  
  
"First of all, you can stop singing. Then, you can come over to the wonderful and beautiful lobby of Paradise Estate and assist me in fitting together these bits and pieces of our new M.A.I.D. as soon as possible."  
  
"Oooooofff cour- Sorry about that. Of course I can come help you. But I'm in the middle of rehearsal for my new album that will fulfill my life's passion of becoming a pop star, and I can't just leave the band and the backup dancers waiting all day. Do you mind if I bring them along? They can practice while I help you put together the bits and pieces of your new M.A.I.D. The wonderful and beautiful lobby of Paradise Estate is big enough for that, don't you think?"  
  
"Certainly. Bring them along- their presence will only enhance the wonder and beauty of the lobby of Paradise Estate. And they can entertain us while we put together the bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D."  
  
Starshine immediately entered the front doors of Paradise Estate and passed into its wonderful and beautiful lobby.  
  
Star was quite surprised. "My, that was speedy."  
  
Starshine sighed, the wonder and beauty of her day momentarily dimmed. "No, no, we had to let Speedy go. She just couldn't get the rhythms down. Such a loss… Oh, you meant that we arrived in a timely fashion. Well, we WERE practicing just outside on the wonderful and beautiful front lawn of Paradise Estate when you called."  
  
The group trooped in behind Starshine. It included four ponies lugging musical instruments and equipment, three ponies dressed in horribly tacky outfits consisting of overly large amounts of sequins, and one small dragon completely draped in yards of wires and electrical cords strung into a magnificent train that trailed behind him for several more feet. The dragon tripped as he tried (and failed) to move without tangling his burden. "Bloody Hell!" exclaimed the small serpent as he crashed to the floor of Paradise Estate's wonderful, beautiful lobby.  
  
Star was shocked to hear such offensive language from one of Ponyland's smallest and most innocent denizens. Starshine sighed and looked somewhat perturbed and greatly annoyed. Another sigh escaped her lips as the band's drummer giggled inanely. Star looked to her older sister for some explanation, and her sister (ignoring completely her sibling's obsession about answering unasked questions) replied.  
  
"Fireball has just come back from England, where he was helping sign the new record contract. He thought that it would be 'amusing' to teach Spike to swear. You should hear some of the other things he's learned. Actually, I take that back – you really shouldn't. They're rather profane." Star blanched during Starshine's explanation, as she had overheard some of the other expressions that were flowing from Spike's mouth.  
  
"That's it!" exclaimed an exasperated Star. "Give me that duct tape," she demanded of the dragon. Spike, happily cursing all the while, obediently handed the dull silver roll to Star, who promptly taped his mouth shut. "Sorry, Spike, but I just couldn't listen to that any longer. It's ruining the wonder and beauty of my most recent reunion with my respected sibling of the distaff branch, whom I have missed dearly despite the fact that we masticated nourishment in each other's company only marginally over three hours ago."  
  
Everyone in the wonderful and beautiful lobby of Paradise Estate promptly shut their traps and stared at the small white earth pony.  
  
"Heh, heh, guess I've been hanging around Wind Whistler too much lately. What I MEANT to say is that I just couldn't listen to that any longer. It's ruining the wonder and beauty of my most recent reunion with my respected sibling of the distaff branch, whom I have missed dearly despite the fact that we masticated nourishment in each other's company only marginally over three hours ago."  
  
The staring continued.  
  
"Oh, yes, I suppose that didn't help, did it? Here, let me try again." Star took a deep breath and shouted. "I don't want to listen to you cuss while I'm trying to talk to my sister, so SHUT UP!" At Spike's understanding nod, Star ripped the duct tape off of his snout. He winced and apologized.  
  
The current occupants of the wonderful, beautiful lobby relaxed as understanding crept into the expressions of all. The band continued discussing where to best place the instruments and still give the dancers plenty of room for their formations. (If you hadn't guessed by now, the wonderful and beautiful lobby of Paradise Estate was quite large- much like a high school gymnasium, but with the addition of wonder and beauty.) The backup dancers and their sparkly outfits were lounging on the couches, gossiping about the unfortunate Speedy and her dismissal. Spike was trying to untangle himself from the wires. He kept shooting nervous glances in Star's direction, in case she heard him muttering swear words under his breath. He wasn't certain what they meant, but he did know that they caused looks of shock on the faces of others, and he liked that. No one was paying the least bit of attention the bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D.- they just circled around the large area of floor covered by them and went about their business.  
  
Star glared impatiently at her sister, who was deeply involved in conversation with the choreographer. Starshine, caught completely unaware by the power of her sibling's gaze, was knocked over onto her side. While not quite a Glare of Death (death, or anything more horrifying than mild discomfort, was completely unheard of inside of wonderful, beautiful Ponyland) or even a Glare of Injury, the Glare of Mild Discomfort was quite enough to dislodge Starshine's somewhat shaky footing (she did have one leg attached to her stomach, after all) and make her bump her wings on the table.  
  
Fireball noticed that Starshine had fallen, but only because she had landed on the cymbal-head that he had been reaching for.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes," replied Starshine. "Although I AM experiencing some mild discomfort. I think I'll be fine in a little bit. Would you help me up?"  
  
Fireball was eager to get his cymbal-head back, so he courteously assisted Starshine to her feet (all three functional ones, that is), and she hobbled over to her sister, who was looking satisfied with herself.  
  
"What in the Rainbow did you do that for? I could have been hurt!"  
  
"No, no, I used a Glare of Mild Discomfort, not a Glare of Injury. And it got your attention, didn't it?"  
  
"You could have just asked. What do you need my attention for?"  
  
"Do you remember when I called you earlier this afternoon?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you remember what I asked you when I called earlier this afternoon?"  
  
Starshine sighed. "Yes."  
  
"Then would you mind terribly HELPING ME TO DO IT!?!"  
  
"Yes," Starshine muttered, but at the threat of another Glare of Mild Discomfort, the threat of which she found mildly discomforting, she relented. "Let's get to work on that new M.A.I.D."  
  
"Good. The bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D. are over here." Star led her sister to the afore-mentioned area of the floor. "I'll read the instructions and you can figure out how to stick stuff together. You're good at that." Star picked of the photo of Warren T. and turned it over to read the back. The two ponies had stood there for some minutes when Star looked at her sister and raised an eyebrow. "Well? Are you going to start putting these bits and pieces together or not?"  
  
"Would you mind terribly reading the instructions out LOUD? So perhaps I have some idea of where to start?"  
  
"Oh. Uh, sure."  
  
"Why did Faith purchase this monstrosity anyway?" Starshine queried.  
  
"She was tired of fetching delicacies and/or scrubbing toilets, which cut into the time that she could have spent thinking of wonderful and beautiful things to entertain her guests with."  
  
"Ah." Starshine decided to leave it at that, and the two sisters got down to the business of fitting the bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D. into a completed, functional robot. 


	5. 4. Song and Dance

1.1.1 Song and Dance  
  
In one of those miraculous occurrences that miraculously occur when an author's back is turned for five minutes, Star and Starshine had compiled all of the bits and pieces of the new M.A.I.D. into a completed and functional robot. (This highly upset the author, who had been hoping to have a good long chapter or two about the fitting together of the bits and pieces, if only for the purpose of further annoying her non-existent readers for her own amusement. Sadly, it was not to be- the new M.A.I.D. was completed, and the author had had no say in the matter.) The two sisters looked contentedly at the new M.A.I.D. It looked back at them, but with no emotion, since that was a part of the processing circuitry that Star's clodhopper hooves had damaged in the last sentence of chapter one. In fact, many of the problems associated with the new M.A.I.D. would stem from this damaged processing circuitry, but the employees of the beautiful and wonderful Paradise Estate did not currently know that.  
  
The new M.A.I.D. stood complacently in the beautiful, wonderful lobby of Paradise Estate, awaiting her operators' first orders. The sisters stood complacently (also in the wonderful and beautiful lobby of Paradise Estate, by sheer coincidence), awaiting the new M.A.I.D.'s first action. It was a vicious, downspiraling cycle that we shan't go into. The band and backup dancers had finally gotten situated during the author's five minute coffee break, and had begun rehearsing without Starshine. The sisters turned their gaze from the ponybot and observed the dancers for a few moments.  
  
"Would you like to see our new routine? I think this will be my breakthrough hit- it's called Where Do we Go From Here?" At Star's indifferent shrug, Starshine hobbled over to the other end of the lobby, stood in front of the mike (she certainly couldn't hold it very well with only one functional front hoof) and started singing.  
  
'Unicorns, unicorns,  
  
Once covering the land  
  
Now greedy King Haggard  
  
Has you in his hand.  
  
Stuck ever in sea,  
  
Roll on the waves,  
  
There you will be  
  
For the rest of your days.  
  
When will you live?  
  
Scared of the Bull  
  
Fall with the give,  
  
Rise with the pull.  
  
In human-girl form  
  
I have shed a tear  
  
My heart is now torn  
  
Where do we go from here?  
  
Star finished, with the backup dancers swooping, traipsing, or winking as was natural for them. Everyone (Starshine, Spike, the band, and the backup dancers included) except Star applauded emphatically. Star was too busy trying to hold back her gag reflex to bother stomping on the floor. Besides, she knew who would have to show the new M.A.I.D. how to polish said floor later that day, and she wasn't eager to add to the task.  
  
Starshine limped awkwardly to the side of the lobby (which retained its qualities of being wonderful and beautiful) where her sister stood. "Well, what did you think? Did you like it? Do you think it will fulfill my lifelong passion of becoming a pop star?"  
  
Star muttered something that sounded positive, knowing full well that if she told her aspiring sister what she REALLY thought of the performance, her sibling's feeling would be deeply and gravely injured.  
  
"What was that? I can't understand you. Speak up!"  
  
Star grimaced, knowing that she wasn't allowed to lie, but not knowing how she could avoid hurting Starshine. Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, she was saved from having to choose which was the lesser of the two evils.  
  
"Up."  
  
Both ponies stared in amazement at the new M.A.I.D. who had just spoken.  
  
"Ooooh, did you hear that?" Starshine asked breathlessly.  
  
"No. Did you?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Then why are we staring in amazement at the new M.A.I.D. as if she just said something?"  
  
"I don't know. I just stared in amazement because YOU were staring in amazement."  
  
"You're such a copycat, Starshine!"  
  
"I am NOT a cat! I'm a Pony! How dare you insult me like that!?!"  
  
"Because it's true! You always do EVERYTHING that I do! It drives me crazy!"  
  
At this statement, Starshine broke down in sobs. "I just want to be popluar, like YOU. Everybody likes YOU, and they always compare me to YOU, and YOU always get recognition, and YOU have the cushy hotel job, and YOU have a new M.A.I.D., and YOU don't have to try and eek out living as a highly-successful pop star, and YOU were always our parents favorite, and YOU have that extensive collection of erotic potte—"  
  
Starshine was cut off by Star's front hoof plastering over her mouth. "I thought I told you not to say anything about that! And it's EXOTIC, not erotic! I don't know what that latter word is, because I don't think it's allowed in wonderful and beautiful Ponyland, but it shouldn't be applied to MY extensive pottery collection. Why didn't you ever tell me that you felt that way?"  
  
Starshine mumbled something incoherent and eyed her sister's appendage warily. Star shrugged and returned her foot to the floor, where it belonged. "Thank you. It's awfully hard to say something meaningful with a foot in your mouth, as YOU certainly ought to know by now. As I was saying, everyone LOVES you, Star. You don't have this nasty deformity- yes, I know there are plenty of others with it as well, but it's really hard to get a good game of kickball going when you can't kick OR run! And don't try to tell me about Sky-Ball. I have enough trouble trying to fly as it is, much less landing, and I can't waste my concentration on some stupid air-filled dragon bladder! Sorry, Spike," she told the little dragon as color drained from his face at the mention of Sky-Ball and dragon bladders.  
  
"Oh, it's not as bad for me as it is for some of the others. My uncle Merle is famous now. He won the world championship five years ago." The little purple dragon sniffed sadly in rememberance.  
  
Star was puzzled. "I didn't know that dragons played Sky-Ball, too. Isn't that a little- I don't know- cannabalistic?"  
  
Spike beamed. "Uncle Merle didn't play- he was the ball."  
  
A short yet profound silence filled the room.  
  
"So, how do you think the Pacers are going to do this season?" Star promptly changed the discussion.  
  
"Who?" Starshine queried. 


	6. 5 A Horse is a Horse, of Course, of Cour...

The Bland One burst into the wonderful and beautiful lobby of Paradise Estates, obviously excited about something. "Oh-my-gosh-you-won't-believe- what-I-just-saw-outside!" she blurted. This was as excited as anyone had ever seen The Bland One, or at least it would have been, had anyone been paying the least bit of attention to her.  
  
No one paid the least bit of attention to her, as stated in the previous sentence, because most of them were deeply pondering Star's question about the Pacers. No one, including Star, knew who or what these mysterious 'Pacers' were. Those that weren't mulling over this thought were trying to remember what Star had said that caused everyone to be so thoughtful in the first place, as the end of Chapter 5 had taken place several hours ago, and ponies' don't often have that long of an attention span.  
  
The Bland One decided to try again. "Oh-my-gosh-you-won't-believe-what-I- just-saw-outside!" This time, she added jumping up and down and pointing, just in case the others had missed that this was something exciting. Again, no one noticed, as they were all still deep in thought. This is something of an oddity, because usually, when someone bursts into an otherwise silent, motionless room and starts raving loudly about anything, others notice. They may not care, and it may not be anything out of the ordinary for the bursting, raving someone to burst and rave, but they notice.  
  
The Bland One was desperate. In a last-ditch effort for the attention of the occupants of Paradise Estate's wonderful beautiful lobby, she neighed loudly. Every head turned toward her in amazement, some with fear in their eyes. All thoughts of the unknown 'Pacers' vanished in the light of this new development. Ponies did not neigh. Ponies spoke, in musical tones, Ponies sang, in even more musical tones, Ponies giggled, Ponies nickered occasionally on overwhelmingly beautiful days while otherwise occupied in the activities that brought multitudes of babies some months later, and Ponies sometimes argued, but they never, EVER neighed.  
  
Spike, ever the innocent, spoke what everyone else was thinking, but was far too polite to say, or even think in the following specific terms. "What an ass." Fireball reached for a roll of duct tape and handed it to Spike (who promptly taped his own snout shut) without removing his eyes from The Bland One.  
  
After several very awkward moments, Star remembered her duty to Faith, and remembered Faith's duty to Paradise Estate's guests- that they be wonderfully, beautifully pleased at all times. She stepped forward, cleared her throat, and asked, "Uh, I'm sorry, The Bland One, could you repeat what you just said? We were all deep in thought, and I don't think we heard you properly."  
  
The Bland One, remembering her highly redundant conversation with Star earlier in Chapter 2, simply and cautiously said, "Yes."  
  
Star waited expectantly for The Bland One to do so. The Bland One waited expectantly for Star to ask her to do so. One of Starshine's miscellaneous band members, a unicorn in pink and gold sequined splendor, stepped forward, crossed her forelegs, and tapped a hind foot in impatience. "Well?" the unicorn queried in a squeaky, high-pitched, and incredibly annoying voice that left no doubt as to why she had been chosen as a backup dancer instead of a singer.  
  
The Bland One took a deep breath, and with absolutely no excitement, stated "Oh-my-gosh-you-won't-believe-what-I-just-saw-outside." She added in a half- hearted jump and waved a hoof toward the open doors, or perhaps the fireplace on the other side the wonderful and beautiful lobby of Paradise Estates. With her utter lack of enthusiasm, it was difficult to tell exactly where the gesture was supposed to be directed. As a result, half of the ponies flooded out the doors to gape at nothing, and the other, more easily confused half flocked to the fireplace, also to gape at nothing. Spike, who had rushed to the window, loudly mumbled something that caused the tape keeping his mouth shut to curl up at the ends and fall off- even the tape in Ponyland didn't want to be associated with something that foul. 


End file.
